Rachel had already done her mother’s makeup. Now she would do her hair. Sienna and Courtney had gotten themselves ready earlier and were double-checking the party prep.
“We’re going to need a schedule for the wedding,” she said absently, thinking that one bride and two attendants was nothing. She’d done hair and makeup for much bigger wedding parties, sometimes starting at six in the morning for a midday wedding. “After we figure out how you want us made up and styled.”
Her mother smiled. “That will be fun. Maybe all three of you could have Princess Leia hair?”
“Sienna will need extensions. Or hair pieces, if you mean the little ear buns.”
“You’re not going to shriek that I’m crazy and you’re not wearing Princess Leia hair?”
“I know better than to argue with a bride.”
“That’s right. I’m going to be the bride and everyone has to do what I say. Enough?” She blinked dramatically.
Rachel looked at her. “You’re perfect. Now have a seat and I’ll do your hair.”
They were in the bride’s room on the ground floor of the Los Lobos Hotel. The space had once been a regular guest room, but years ago had been converted for the wedding business. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors covered an entire wall. Opposite was a ten-foot counter with plenty of electrical plugs and mirrors with good lighting. The closet had an extra high rail to keep long wedding gowns off the floor.
In the bathroom, the tub had been pulled out to make room for open shelves and a double sink along with a cabinet stocked with everything from bandages to hair spray to needles and thread. Spot-cleaning kits sat next to airplane-size bottles of vodka and bourbon. Joyce had thought of everything.
If you booked a wedding—or engagement party—at the hotel, access to the bride’s room came with it. The space was great for pre-wedding prep and post-wedding clothing changes. She’d heard rumors that more than one bride and groom had chosen not to wait to consummate their marriage and that the bride’s room had seen more than its share of action.
Rachel blew out her mother’s layered hair. She worked quickly and easily, familiar with what had to be done. An unfortunate state of affairs, because it gave her time to think. Mostly about Greg.
She hadn’t seen him since he’d attacked her on the baseball field. Well, not attacked, exactly. But he’d said some things and she still didn’t know what to think. She knew that Maggie had invited him to her engagement party, which meant she was going to have to figure out what she was going to say soon enough. Or maybe not. Maybe he would just ignore her.
She drew in a breath. No, that wouldn’t happen. Greg would be friendly. He always was. Even when they’d been getting a divorce, he hadn’t been a jerk.
She smoothed her mother’s bangs in place, then used a curling iron to fluff a few pieces. Then she got out her jumbo can of hair spray. When she finished, she put her hands on her mother’s shoulders.
“You’re so beautiful. Neil’s a lucky guy.”
Their eyes met in the mirror. Rachel could see the similarities. Hazel eyes. The same shaped mouth and chin. She would look more and more like her mother as she aged. Not a bad thing to have happen, she decided.
Their hair color was different. Rachel didn’t bother coloring hers, so it was a dark blond. Maggie used an all-over color to hide the gray, along with highlights. Sienna had chosen to go platinum, while Courtney was more like Rachel. No color for her honey-blond hair.
Variations on a theme, Rachel thought. Maggie with the green-hazel eyes, Rachel’s just plain hazel, while Sienna and Courtney had blue eyes. All blondes, all tall. They were the classic California family. Practically a cliché.
“Thank you,” her mother said. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“That I did such a good job with your hair?”
Maggie laughed. “That, of course.” She sniffed. “The engagement. He really is wonderful to me. I never thought I’d fall in love again.” She reached up and touched her daughter’s hand. “I wish you would...”
Rachel stepped back. “Thanks, Mom. I’m fine.”
“I want more for you than that. How are things with Greg?”
“You’re not very subtle, are you?”
“I’m your mother. I don’t have to be. I know he screwed up, but he was so sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t change what he did.”
Maggie pressed her lips together. Rachel knew what she was thinking. That Rachel should consider forgiving her husband. It had only been a one-night stand, so she should give him another chance. But what if she did? What if she believed in him again and he hurt her a second time? She would never survive.
“Ready for your party?” she asked. “I’m sure Neil is anxious to see you.”
Her mother rose and faced her. “At least tell me that you’re happy.”
“Of course I am. I have Josh and my family. And I’m about to get a stepfather.” She leaned close and hugged her mom. “You know I’m going to ask him for a pony.”
Maggie laughed. “I wouldn’t joke about that, if I were you. Neil’s a giver and he just might buy you one.”
They were still laughing when they walked out of the room and toward the lobby.
The late-May weather was perfect. Warm without being hot and plenty of sun. They were still about an hour from the party starting, and the west lawn was filled with activity. Large open tents had been installed. Servers were setting the tables where dinner would be served. The pre-and post-mingling area had two bars and a dance floor. Flowers sat on tables and by tent poles.
Rachel spotted Sienna and waved her over. Her sister walked toward them, all long and lean in a stunning ankle-length black dress made entirely of one-inch open-crocheted squares. The dress was lined from the bust to midthigh, but her skin peeked through the rest of it. Even knowing her sister had probably bought it at The Helping Store didn’t take away from the look.
She had accessorized it with classic hoops, strappy flats and simple makeup. Her short hair was spiky.
“Killer look,” Rachel said, knowing she couldn’t in a million years pull that off.
“Thanks.” Sienna smiled at them both. “Mom, you look great.”
“I’m so nervous,” Maggie admitted. “Have you seen Neil? He’s not going to stand me up, is he?”
“I don’t think you can be stood up at an engagement party,” Rachel said.
“She’s right.” Sienna pointed. “He’s over there, telling the staff how amazing you are.”
Maggie saw her fiancé and waved. “I’ll see you girls later.”
“Have fun,” Rachel told her, then looked at her sister. “Where’s David?”
“He’s meeting me here. I wanted to come early to see if anyone needed help. Oh, no.”
Rachel followed her sister’s gaze and saw Courtney carrying a large bowl filled with oranges, lemons and limes. As they watched, Courtney caught her foot on an extension cord, stumbled forward and dropped the bowl.
“It’s been five minutes and she’s already pulled a Courtney,” Sienna complained. “What is with her?”
“Just stop it,” Rachel said, starting forward to help her baby sister.
“What? Don’t snap at me. She’s a disaster. Admit it, Rachel. She never even graduated from high school. It’s been nearly ten years and she’s a maid here at the hotel.”
Rachel ignored Sienna and went to help Courtney with the fruit. Her baby sister smiled as she approached.
“I thought I’d get my awkward moment out of the way early. So I can enjoy the party.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. Nothing bad happened.”
“Oh, but the night is young.”
They collected all the fruit and then stood. As Courtney delivered the bowl to one of the bars, Rachel studied her sister.
> The shapeless dress couldn’t have been less flattering on her. The navy-and-cream print was okay, but the length was an awkward two inches above the knee, which just looked bad on Courtney. The elbow-length sleeves were matronly, and the top kept slipping around on her shoulders. As always, her sister had pulled her hair back in a ponytail, which could have looked stylish, but didn’t.
“Come with me,” Rachel said, grabbing her hand. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“What? No. I’m fine.”
“You’re a mess. Come on, Courtney. You could be gorgeous. Why do you always try to blend in with the drapes?”
“I’m not attractive. I’m tall and gawky.”
“Maybe at fourteen, but not anymore. Fifteen minutes,” she repeated. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Fine.”
Courtney clumped along behind her as they returned to the hotel. Rachel went directly to the bride’s room and started opening cupboards. She found straight pins and fabric tape. A lost-and-found bin yielded a hot-pink scarf that would have to do.
“Get out the ironing board and iron,” she instructed. “We want heat but no steam, so make sure it’s empty.”
She found navy thread and threaded a needle, then had Courtney stand in front of the wall-size mirror while she folded up both sleeves and pinned them in place. Now instead of a baggy elbow-length sleeve, the dress had little cap sleeves.
She walked around her sister and studied the dress. “You get this at the thrift store?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Rachel pinned both sides of it back, from mid–shoulder blade to the fullest part of Courtney’s butt. “Go put on a robe. I need the dress.”
Her sister pulled it off and handed it over. Rachel used the fabric tape to secure the sleeves, then the pleats she’d created on the back. Once the fabric cooled, she would tack the material down to make sure the tape stayed.
Courtney came out of the bathroom in a white terry-cloth robe.
“Sit,” Rachel said, pointing to the chair. “And take out your ponytail.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. My baby sister is a stunner. It’s time the world knew.”
She combed out Courtney’s long, thick hair. Quickly, before her sister could protest, she combed the front part forward and grabbed her scissors.
“You are so not giving me... What did you do?” The second part of the sentence came out as a shriek. “I don’t want bangs.”
“I know and I don’t care. I’ve started now. There’s no putting them back.”
“I thought Sienna was the bitch in the family,” Courtney grumbled. “You tricked me.”
“Yes, I did. Now be still.”
Rachel combed more hair forward and began to cut across Courtney’s forehead. She moved carefully, keeping the line straight. She combed everything again and trimmed a few stray hairs, then pinned the hair back and went to work on her sister’s makeup.
Courtney’s clear skin and big blue eyes didn’t need much enhancement. Rachel brushed on shadow, then mascara, used a brow pencil, then added a light touch of blush. A pretty, dark pink lip stain finished the look.
She unclipped the bangs and moved behind her sister. After spraying her hair with a shine spray, she brushed the long strands into a ponytail before pulling out one piece to wrap around the band holding it in place. She secured it with a couple of pins and sprayed her hair again, then smoothed her bangs.
“That,” she said firmly, “is how you do a ponytail.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“Suffer.”
Rachel went back to the dress. She used the needle and thread to secure a few key points, then had Courtney pull it on over her head. The once shapeless dress now followed the curves of Courtney’s body. Rachel twisted the hot-pink scarf into a long belt and tied it around her sister’s waist. She tucked in the ends.
The faux belt helped define Courtney’s figure even more and raised the hem a couple of inches. Just enough to go from awkward to sexy. Rachel turned her to face the mirror.
“See?”
Gone was the gawky, plain woman, and in her place was a stylish, well-groomed beauty. The bangs softened the strong lines of her face and made her eyes seem huge.
“All it took was fifteen minutes. You could do this if you tried. I’m happy to show you how.”
Courtney smoothed her dress, then touched the belt. “It was twenty-five minutes, but I get your point. I look nice.”
“Better than nice. You look stunning. I should hate you. The fact that I don’t is a testament to my excellent character.”
“I guess.” Courtney hugged her. “Thank you. This is really amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so. Now walk proud. You’ve earned it.”
* * *
Quinn couldn’t remember the last party he’d been to as just one of the guests. He was always feted or, at the very least, that music guy. He found he liked being able to circulate and indulge in small talk without having to wonder what the other person wanted from him.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip. Joyce was chatting with a group of friends. The engaged couple held court by the dance floor, and the three Watson sisters were talking together.
Quinn watched as they interacted. The body language was clear. Rachel and Courtney were comfortable with each other, but Courtney didn’t do well with Sienna. Every time the platinum-blonde spoke, Courtney’s shoulders tightened.
Quinn figured there was a lot of history in that tension. A lifetime of experiences. He’d read an article a year or so ago about how in a group, someone was always the goat. The one who was less valued than the others. He would guess that Courtney had been her family’s goat for most of her life.
He studied the sisters. There were similarities and interesting differences. Rachel was the oldest. She was heavier and trying to hide the fact with too-baggy clothes. She looked tired. Or maybe resigned. Sienna was the obvious beauty of the three, but he’d never been into what was obvious. Instead, his gaze lingered on Courtney.
She looked different tonight. Sexier. Still not comfortable in her own skin, but appealing as always. She kept smoothing the front of her dress as if not sure of how it looked. Rachel slapped her hands away, making him think Courtney’s sister had something to do with the transformation.
He walked over to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a wedge of lime, then crossed to the sisters.
Courtney smiled when she saw him. “You remember Quinn, don’t you? Joyce’s grandson.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rachel said, shaking hands with him. “Watch out for Sienna. She’ll hit you up for money.”
“For an excellent cause,” Sienna protested with a smile. “And if you write me a check, I swear I’ll leave you alone.”
“Not today,” he said firmly as he handed Courtney the shot.
“We haven’t had dinner yet,” she protested. “It’s early to try to get me drunk.”
He chuckled. “This is medicinal. It’s going to be a long night.”
She looked from the shot to him, then shrugged. “Okay.” After swallowing, she sucked on the lime wedge. “No salt?”
“Hard to transport.”
Although he could have put it on his hand and she could have licked it off. He gave himself a full three seconds to think about how great that would have been, then firmly dismissed the visual and the imagined feel of her mouth against his skin. Courtney was not for him. She was young and impressionable and not anyone he should get involved with. He liked her, therefore he would protect her from himself.
“Nice party,” he said. “I like the votive candles.”
The small glass containers at every place setting had been painted with th
e phrase “She said yes!”
“A bit of whimsy,” Courtney told him.
“Courtney’s also responsible for the champagne tower,” Rachel pointed out.
“As long as she doesn’t touch it,” Sienna murmured. “Because that would go badly.”
“Sienna,” Rachel hissed.
Courtney flinched and took a step back. “Have you tried the appetizers? The chefs really outdid themselves today. We’re experimenting with some new finger foods, using locally sourced ingredients.”
Rachel lightly touched Courtney’s back before turning to Sienna. “Oh, look. There’s David. You should go talk to him.”
“You’re both too sensitive,” Sienna snapped before stalking off.
Quinn watched her go. Family dynamics, he thought grimly. They often sucked—although he was lucky when it came to Joyce. He turned back to Courtney.
“Did you do the table runner with the pictures? It’s a clever idea.”
She flashed him a grateful smile. “Um, yes. It’s easy to do online. You could use it at one of your company parties. All your album covers.”
“That’s a great idea,” Rachel told her. “I’m going to steal it for the end of baseball season. We always have a big party with the whole team. I’ll email the parents and ask them to send me their favorite pictures of their kids from the season. Excuse me. I’m going to send myself a note so I don’t forget.”
She walked away. Quinn looked at Courtney.
“You okay?”
She smiled brightly. “Of course. I had tequila. Where’s the bad?”
In her sister, for starters, he thought grimly. Worse, the encounter had made him feel protective, which, when combined with the fact that he already liked her, spelled nothing but trouble.
“You’re the superstar,” he told Courtney.
“I’m a maid. Sienna’s raising money to help battered women start a new life. I think she would win on anyone’s scale.”
“Plus, she’s always been the pretty one.”
Courtney bit her lower lip. “There is that.”
“What you have is better than pretty.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, please. We all know that’s not true.”
Daughters of the Bride Page 10
